The Best of Times was a great movie with Robin Williams and Kurt Russell. The critics won’t tell you that. I will. It was a flop at the box-office. But for a guy who was going to graduate from high school in a few months and already missed playing football with his friends, this movie resonated with me. It still does.

Had we had cell phone cameras back then, my friends and I would have looked like Jack Dundee and Reno Hightower. Kurt was Reno. He was the hero, obviously.

The last game I played at North Harrison on November 1, 1985, was in an epic monsoon. The field was still recovering two years later. Mick Rutherford made a tackle, and he was on the bottom of the pile on the sidelines underwater. All you could see were bubbles rising up from the bottom of the pile. Mick finally surfaced, shook his head a few times and let out his signature “war-hoop”. I just laughed then like I just did all over again. We were bested by Providence that night.

I met up with Mick, and Kelly Samons last week. I still marvel at the fact the two guys who came over to sit with the new kid from Brownstown in August of 1979 at North Harrison Elementary would one day be snapping and holding for the new kid’s kicks when we were in high school. I love these guys.

The Philpot brothers of the Canadian Football League. One plays for Calgary and the other for Montreal. They are both fun to watch. And so is the CFL for me. I looked at my dear wife, Carrie, as I was watching Friday’s CFL game. I told her it was so much fun, the best of times, to just sit and enjoy the games. And I in week 8 of the season already, I have watched every game. I told Carrie it is just a joy to watch. I am not inundated with the “drama” that goes along with college football and the NFL. CFL crap is not on my phone. Most of the guys playing in this league will make less money than most NCAA football players will. I enjoy the purity of the announcing. Matt Dunnigan, an old Louisiana Tech Bulldog and CFL legend, is the star at the desk and usually calls one game a week. It reminds of what I used to watch. Football minus all the drama.

The Moody Blues at The Ryman Auditorium, July 22, 2017. There is a Hatch Print in the living room reminding me of that date every day. This was the last time we saw The Moody Blues. I have told this before. During the last song that night, I looked at Carrie and grabbed her hand. I told her I didn’t want to be in The Ryman when the last note of Ride My See-Saw encore ended. We were out of the building before the last note. Never reaching the end.

And it seems, looking at Justin Hayward’s tour schedule, which is light, 2024 looks like the first time I have not heard Jus sing Nights in White Satin since 2003. 2003 to 2023… we either saw The Moodies or Justin solo. Covid 2020 was a wash for all of us. That is how committed the man has been to his music and his fans. For the record, since 1986, it has been 63 concerts in 37 venues, in 26 cities and 13 states. Yes, Carrie and I were there for The Moodies’ last show at Red Rocks in 2011.

Last year in Columbus, Ohio.

My biggest hurdle this college football season is how I am going to get along without the lady sitting next to Carrie. Talk about the best of times. I have no doubt the first time I see the Ole Miss Rebels hit the field this year, I will be crying like a baby. The Rebels play Furman first. That kicks off at 7 PM local time. I will be in Bloomington that day watching Indiana’s opener against Florida International University. So yes, I will be home in time to see the 4th quarter and cry. That is, if I don’t hang around for IU Coach Curt Cignetti’s post-game presser.

Lastly…for fun.

I hope this guy helps Penn State win every game this season! He hit the lottery with his exit from IU and his hiring at a place that understands football. Really, does Tom Allen not look better in these colors than he did in Crimson? Go get’em, Coach!

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

I have a dreadful weakness for the sound of Dusty Springfield’s up front and true sounding voice like no other lady singer I can think of.  Yes, I know, Barbara Streisand is in the neighborhood.

For decades I thought Dusty Springfield had to have grown up just down or up the road from Bobbie Gentry from Mississippi.  You know, the gal who sang the Ode to Billie Joe.  If you head down I-55 down from Memphis, you drive over the Tallahatchie River.  One can only speculate if that was “the bridge”.

That husky voice of Dusty Springfield actually came from the old country.  Dusty Springfield was born in London, England.  Here’s a piece of musical trivia for you.  Dusty and her brother and another chap were in a trio called The Springfields.  This group was voted England’s most popular group in 1961 and 1962.  Here’s the good one.  The Springfields rendition of the tune Silver Threads and Golden Needles was the first song by a British vocal group to be a Top 10 hit single in the USA.

In earnest, my life’s contemporary listening of Dusty Springfield was when she appeared on the Pet Shop Boys’ tune What Have I Done to Deserve This in 1987.  She sang the chorus.  If you can call it that.  Every time that song came on MTV, I waited to hear her voice.  Dusty Springfield was 59 when she passed away in 1999.  Hers is one voice that I missed hearing in person, and I regret it

So… I am mining through YouTube videos to watch whilst I exercise.  This is how I find out that David Gilmour has “dropped” a new song.  That is what the kids say when a new song comes out.  The new song is “dropped”.  The English teacher in me is not fond of such connotation.

I saw Gilmour at Rupp Arena in 1987 when he was in Pink Floyd, and they were on their first post-Roger Waters tour.  I enjoyed that album, Momentary Lapse of Reason; they played most of the album that early November night.  The concert was great.  Pink Floyd was one of those “other stratosphere” bands.  I can’t explain it.  But, just like Rush and Genesis, and to a degree, The Moody Blues, there are more guys in the audience than there are ladies.  It’s an industrial sound.  Those concerts are no place to look for sugar from your sweetie, unless Justin Hayward is singing Nights in White Satin.

Gilmour is like the rest of us.  He’s getting older.  But he can still play.

Go find something to listen to!

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson